| There is many a task for the Achkaerin folk, and a man's a man always who delves the coal and the iron ore and shapes the potter's clay.
For this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign!
There are many shires that light their fires and bless the iron strong, and the china bake and the potters make as they sing the Southvale song!
For this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign!
O, they come of a race of yeomen born, whose drink is the best of beer, our fields feed beasts for the Life Day feast and you may share our cheer!
For this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign!
We marshal our ranks on the grey pit banks and our lads on the football field, if the cause be right, we are game for the fight - we never were known to yield!
And this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign!
Aye this is the song of the Southvale men In forge, in kiln, in mine, our fires shall burn, and our mill-wheels turn, and the knot shall be our sign! |